Not so Excellent Deduction
by PrimitivePacman
Summary: SherCock and Orgasm! as I jokingly call our two heroes.  Okay, Sherlock and Watson. This is a one shot about the complicated relationship between Watson and Holmes. Rated M for smut. It's not just smut, guys. It's about love, too.


'Not so excellent deduction, Watson…' or as I call it 'Shercock' Which I wrote with **SliceOfPie **is my first fic on this account. I used to be .Rose but I have abandoned that account for the time being and have made this one.

I wrote as John Watson in italics and Pie (.net/u/2087472/PotterxPie) wrote as Sherlock in bold. We both did the text that is normal.

R&R guys! 3

**Thump. That was the dog again - It wasn't always Sherlock's fault. The man was ****easily bored, but his mind was brilliant. And so, when combining the two, things like this always happened. The poor dog was passed out, and Sherlock had to admit he felt no emotion for the mutt. It was Watson's, not his, and as he puffed on his pipe, his dark eyes watched the dog as its chest moved. Yes, it was still alive.**

**Small rings of smoke blew from his mouth as he chewed the end of the pipe contemplatively. The last case he'd had had left him with little need of any brain power, and the man was pent up.**

_John Watson was coming home after a very long day. Something Sherlock always seemed to 'forget' was that he was a doctor as well. And he was up to his chin in sick and dying and cranky people. Sherlock seemed not to care, though Watson knew better.  
>Still.<br>THUMP.  
>"SHERLOCK DAMNIT THATS MY DOG" He shouted as he opened the door to their shared house and hurried to the parlour to see his dog on the floor. Again.<br>At least he wasn't playing violin at 3 am anymore. Jesus, the man was ungodly.  
>"Sherlock, what have we discussed about MY dog, hm? Not to kill him! Again!" Watson pulled off his gloves and jacket and hung them on a chair.<br>"Sherlock! Are you listening to me?" Seemingly not.  
>'ThatManOhGOdLETmeJust-AGH' he thought in frustration. He loved Sherlock, he really did. But GODDAMNIT THAT MAN DROVE HIM INSANE.<em>

**Sherlock continued smoking his pipe, raising one dark eyebrow at his companion as he burst through the door like a stark-raving lunatic.**

**"Relax, Watson," he drawled. "It'll wear off. The dog always gets over it," he stated, and rightly so - though the fact he had tested it on the gullible dog was still a huge problem all in itself. He drummed one hand against the armchair, his dark hair in disarray, his shirt untucked and his collar up. There was stubble on his chin, and actually, the man on the outside did not reflect the genius on the inside - though he was attractive, he looked almost like he was crazy.**

**Perhaps he was, or maybe just a genius. Either way, he pointed at the tea pot and cups on the table in front of him. "You can make some tea, while you're at it, Watson. It went cold a few hours ago, but I found most intriguing that the dog still drank it when offered. Perhaps they don't measure temperature as we do, or perhaps your dog is just particularly stupid. I think I've decided on the latter."**

_Watson's eye twitched. Yes. Twitched. Definitely a spasm of ocular muscle and nervous system.  
>"The dog- MY dog, shouldn't HAVE to get over it. Because you shouldn't TEST it on him in the first place!" The doctor (! Cringe, all you DW fans! JK I love DW) was left in his perfectly straight button down and matching trousers. Well. They HAD been perfectly straight until he'd been brought into such disarray.<br>  
>Ahem.<br>'I can make some tea' he thought, his fingers muscles twitching similarly to his eye in urge to punch his partner.  
>'I can make some tea' he repeated in thought over and over like a calming mantra.<br>'I can make some tea. I shall make some tea. Tea is calm. I am calm. Tea.'_

_He breathed. Nice. Relief. Air in lungs. Breathing organs. Respiratory system.  
>Sherlock was right he really must stop thinking in doctor language. No wonder Mary thought him so amusing.<br>Ahh Mary...  
>Revenge...<br>"Fine." He chose to ignore the dog comment. "I'll make earl grey. I know you hate it. It's Mary's favourite." Earl grey was Sherlock's favourite too. However he had apparently sworn to hate everything Mary liked.  
>He'd probably literally sworn it. It wouldn't surprise Watson.<em>

**Sherlock finished his pipe, but continued to chew it. "I wouldn't test on him if he was less gullible. I'm telling you, your dog is not too smart," he stated, shrugging. He watched his companion's body movements. Eye twitching - Annoyance or spasm of the muscle, but in this case, more than likely annoyance. Twitching of the fingers, again, a similar case of either annoyance or spasm. But, yet again, Sherlock opted for annoyance.**

**Sherlock went to protest - "I like Earl Grey -" but then stopped. Mary. Damn Mary. Bloody Mary. He'd made a silent pact to himself. He disliked change when it came to Watson. "No. No, I don't want tea. I'm not in the mood."**

_Watson, again, did not reply. It was HIS dog, goddamnit. Stupid or not.  
>Gahhhhhhhhhhhhh.<br>He did feel just a little bit triumphant though, at Sherlock's reaction. "Suit yourself, more for me. And Mary." he added quickly before going to make that damned tea.  
>He still needed to tell Sherlock. About the proposal.<br>Such things were better done by a professional.  
>John Watson was a professional. In a different area of expertise. But it counted, right? Right.<br>He hadn't proposed yet and honestly, he didn't want to. His... Heart... belonged to someone else. But it wasn't okay. And it wasn't possible. Both knew this. Both were sorry. Both couldn't change it.  
>The mere thought of living together that way forever...Almost made the doctor cry.<br>But he couldn't.  
>So he returned with the tea and a solemn expression.<br>"Sherlock. I have something to tell you. You are not going to like it."_

**Sherlock cast his dark eyes over the tea, a sour expression over his face as he placed the pipe on the table and placed his fingers together, regarding Watson with his dark eyes.**

**"You look nervous, Watson," he stated, pretending to ignore Watson's previous statement. "And most of the things you've ended up telling me in the past few weeks I haven't liked, anyway."**

_If it were any other matter Watson might've been able to be amused by his strange partner. But not now.  
>"I'm going to ask Mary to be my wife. It's the right thing to do. We both knew-" he broke off at the look on Sherlock's face. Shock. Hurt. Betrayal. Anger. Sadness. Everything. Watson looked away, unable to bear it. "You knew that it couldn't work. We talked about it. You knew..." he closed his eyes. Why was God so cruel? He could now fully understand why Sherlock didn't believe in God. His heart had been wounded continuously from the moment he had realised, that the only person he could ever want, ever need, was of his own gender. And thus he was damned to want forever, unable to openly love him. Unable to openly, legally, belong to him.<br>The normally calm (more or less) Doctor's facade seemed cool, resigned.  
>Exhausted.<em>

**Sherlock said nothing, he didn't even flinch. But his facial expression said it all, and the two men were left in silence for a while, before Sherlock did something shocking.**

**No one could really understand Sherlock's mind - It was like a twisting nether of brilliance, but no one could ever follow his train of thought. And quite shockingly, Sherlock stood in one swift, fluid motion, crossing the room to where Watson stood and taking the man's face between both hands, before kissing him resolutely on the mouth.**

**"We'll see about that, Watson"**

_Watson kissed the man back with a burning, desperate passion. His hands greedy for the feeling of him as he pulled him closer.  
>Tears were now in his eyes, "No. We won't see, Sherlock. Why can't you get it? You're such a genius, yet you have no idea how much it hurts me to see you let yourself go after every case. How it infuriates me when you put yourself in CONSTANT DANGER. Or kill my dog! OUR dog! Because you know that if we were, that that dog would be the ONLY thing CLOSE to a child, that we could EVER have! And we can't be. It's not legal, it's not accepted. It's not okay..."he finished in a quiet voice. It felt okay. It felt more than okay. But it wasn't. Yet it was.<br>"I have to do this. It's my only chance at normality. Mary knows I don't love her, but...but I hope I can learn to. For us both." he caressed the face of the man he loved. He knew he could never love another. They both knew._

**Sherlock returned the passion, though perhaps not so desperately - he was sure he never showed desperation. He wasn't one to do that, but Watson was. The words that Watson spoke cut him like ice, however, and he observed the tears in Watson's eyes. He had never seen Watson like this before - Never.**

**"The dog isn't dead, Watson," Sherlock argued, quietly. But Watson had a point. God damn it, if Sherlock hadn't been so stubborn he'd have accepted this fact before. But he was stubborn, and somewhere deep within him he knew Watson was right. They'd both be in serious trouble if someone found out about them.**

**"Tell me, Watson," he continued, quietly. "Have you slept with her? Has she told her she loves you, and how did you respond?" He was probably a hypocrite - He had perhaps been marginally in love with Irene Adler, but for her mind and her wit. That was what he loved about Watson, too. Perhaps he didn't love Watson as strongly as Watson loved him, but Sherlock was too damn stubborn to let Watson go as Watson caressed his face.**

_Sherlock's partner couldn't even answer. If that was all he could supply as an argument...then there really was no way out. And that had been his last hope, gone, out the fogged windows._

_Then Sherlock began asking him questions he did not want to answer, did not want to think about. Cringing he shook his head, "Sherlock... Stop..." the brilliant medical man muttered.  
>Sherlock didn't stop though. Of course now. He'd be a fool to think otherwise.<br>"No. No I have not slept with her. I told her no. And as I said, she knows I don't love her. But she loves me. So much. The poor girl would rather spend an unfulfilling and unsatisfying life with me than face the truth." he felt sick. Mary was a lovely woman. She deserved more than an unloving husband who lived for another man._

**Sherlock's eyes bored into Watson's. "Then why does she stay with you? Surely no one can be that stupid." He never meant to offend. He was just purely thinking logically and had no time of day for anyone who...What was he thinking? The answer here was that, of course, he was ravenously jealous of Mary. Watson would move on, Sherlock knew, and Sherlock too would move on. But the fact that he and Watson had some sort of bond was undeniable.**

**And that annoyed him.**

_The sun had gone down by then. The only light came from the few gas lamps on the wall.  
>Watson sighed, "Such is love. I would've thought you knew that." yet again, Sherlock had managed to make him feel utterly rejected and pitiful.<br>Ever since that one night. They'd been together, completely, for one night. In which they loved and hated, fought and soothed.  
>After that night they had talked, knowing it could never be. But each continued to love the other.<br>And it was driving Watson mad.  
>Sherlock, who was already utterly batty, was less obvious.<br>Watson knew what was killing him was hurting his partner equally, and so he had made the decision to break away. He would never get over him, but Sherlock would. And so for Sherlock, he was willing to give up on love and commit to a woman whom he simply did not care about more than friendship._

**Sherlock shook his head. "Love is hard to fathom," he stated, simply and obviously, before bringing his lips to Watson's again. That one night had been wonderfully satisfying to Sherlock - He doubted even Irene Adler could have satisfied him the way Watson could.**

**He knew Watson too well - Perhaps this was not the right time, and perhaps this should never have happened again. But Watson was too shy to ever even ask for a kiss, much less what that could lead on to.**

_Before the word 'True' could leave his lips they were occupied. Much better use of them, too. If he may say. At the passion Sherlock was giving him he couldn't hold back the low moan that escaped from his lips. And then he knew it was done for. HE was done for. There was no turning back again. Wrong or not, this was what they needed. Right now.  
>He moved his hands down lower as their tongues began to play.<em>

**And this was the Watson Sherlock preferred - The one that knew what he wanted. Realising that this room was too insecure for what the planned on doing, Sherlock stopped, gesturing to the window the looked over the bare street. He pointed silently above him, gesturing to Watson's room as he left, taking the stairs leisurely as he began to unbutton his already unevenly buttoned shirt, shutting the curtains and lighting a lamp.**

**The room was cleaner than his - Definitely, and that was why he'd picked here.**

_Watson was left dumbstruck (as often with his partner) and nodded before rushing after the man of incredible cool and madness, almost ripping off his shirt and scarf, his glasses sliding on his nose.  
>They were inside and simply stared at each other, before nearly Lunging at the other and kissing, no, snogging like that one night...<em>

**The heat that emanated was something that Sherlock could not tell - Whether or not it came from them or it was just a feeling. Watson was eager, and Sherlock gingerly took the glasses from his face, placing them on the bedside table.**

**He smiled, finally finding the last button on his shirt and sliding it off his shoulders, before closing the door to Watson's room and placing Watson firmly against the wall, their bodies entirely too close, but wonderfully so as Sherlock struggled to find every inch of flesh, kissing from Watson's jaw line to his collarbone and back again.**

_Watson was firmly against the amazingly hard wall and an equally amazing and equally hard Sherlock Holmes. Oh how he'd missed it there. So, so much. The moans emitting from his mouth were urgent now, open as his hands scraggled along Sherlock's toned back. His partner was strong, muscular...whereas he was equally strong and toned, just not as visibly. He nibbled on the genius' ear just the way he loved it and groaned, wishing he could speak but every time he opened his mouth to say something he was silenced with a glorious tongue._

**Sherlock was grinning now - Both men were becoming aroused, and Sherlock moved one hand towards Watson's trousers, teasing him through the material, removing his mouth from Watson's to kiss his neck, freeing up Watson's mouth for the moment. Sherlock was going to suggest Watson give him a hand job, or a blow job, in a moment, but that could wait.**

_"Sherlock..." he groaned as his mouth was freed, a look of ecstasy upon his usually collected features. Ohsweetjesus...  
>Usually Watson was the one who gave first, but as this may very well be the last time, he decided to turn that around. "Touch...Me...Holmes..." he moaned, purring in his counterparts' ear before nipping at it and grinding against his hand, his own hand wandering down to grab the man's firm ass.<em>

**Sherlock raised an eyebrow, turning Watson around and slamming him on the bed. Positioning himself above Watson, he obliged, Watson's trousers easily slipping off, underwear too. Sherlock brought his lips back down to Watson's, slowly moving his hand down towards Watson's manhood, stroking it softly at first before pumping his hand up and down the shaft, pleasuring him easily with Sherlock's own hand.**

**The feel of Watson's own hands on Sherlock's body made for more response from Sherlock, as they grew closer and closer, Watson's small whimpers of pleasure filling Sherlock's ears and stroking Sherlock's ego.**

_Watson going to hell, he had decided. The lifetime of helping others and solving crime was worthless. For this sin he'd given it all. And he'd do it every day if he could. Every. Day. The moaning and groaning grew louder and faster as he squeezed his eyes shut in pleasure. "Sherlo-oooock..." he managed to utter huskily. His hands pushing him up briefly to rip off Holmes' clothes before each had their hands on the others raging erection. Pumping as if they would die if the didn't.  
>"Fuck...must...Fuck...me..." he groaned. This was customary however. Watson was fucked.<br>In all ways of the word._

**Sherlock was enjoying himself, of course, but he wasn't completely sure of what Watson was muttering. Gasping once, he muttered, "Watson, you're mumbling nonsense again."**

**Though the feeling of Watson's hand on him was wonderful. He wanted Watson, right here and right now. And that was it that was the rugged truth. It was desire.**

_A familiar mixture of lust, amusement and frustration (mainly the sexual kind) filled the educated man.  
>"You...hmm are...an arse...you know...What I want..." he groaned, teasing the other man by ghosting his fingers along his cock briefly instead of pumping like he knew Sherlock wanted.<br>"I want..." he gasped and groaned the last word in a husky breath, "You..."_

**Sherlock rolled his eyes, removing his hand from Watson's body, knowing exactly how to be infuriating. It was like that was his sole purpose - to infuriate.**

**"You don't have to ask," he murmured, waiting for Watson to take some control.**

_That murmur was all Watson needed to take action. Grabbing the man's face he kissed him deeply and passionately. His love for this individual obvious as they sucked face like no one had ever sucked face before.  
>"Take me then, I'm yours..." he whispered, wrapping his legs around Sherlock's waist, his own erection so hard it was up against Sherlock's also hard abs. Holmes' manhood was now pressed against Watsons entrance. Waiting for Sherlock. Because that's what John had always done, waited for Sherlock.<em>

**Sherlock smiled, ready. Thrusting softly and slowly, but getting faster as he went, he kissed the other man passionately, stroking Watson's cock again before pumping. Sherlock knew this was wrong on so many levels, but he didn't believe in God and no one was ever going to find out. He knew. Small moans of passion began to fill the air, and it was pure ecstasy.**

_Watson let out a cry of pleasure as his partner took him, kissing him back and moaning loudly into his mouth.  
>This was heaven, he concluded, and when I die I'm going to hell because he won't be there. Knowing Sherlock, he'd probably get himself stuck in limbo and stay there, too stubborn to ask for help.<br>He smiled against the others lips at the musing.  
>The windows were fogging up in the small room. He was growing closer...And closer...and OHHH.<br>Watson called out Sherlock's name as they came in unison.  
>A unity, that's what they were.<br>A unity to be separated...but not completely and never forever..._

**Spent, Sherlock lay on Watson's bed for a moment, breathing heavily. He never stayed for long, however, and he quickly began gathering his clothes. Watson's dismay was obvious, of course, as he lay there in his naked glory, but Sherlock knew it would be detrimental if he stayed. Watson was already confused enough.**

_John closed his eyes, "I love you too" he muttered just before the door closed. He had heard him._

'Not so excellent deduction, Watson…'

_They didn't speak for the rest of the night. Which Watson spent crying, in his room.  
>When they ate in the morning things were normal. 'Normal'.<br>Watson didn't even believe in Normality anymore. He didn't believe in anything anymore.  
>Wordlessly he put the engagement ring in his pocket and left, his expression that of a soldier going to battle, knowing that he face certain death. Not one of a man going to gain a lovely bride.<br>Because in gaining a lovely bride, the doctor would be losing all chances to live happily.  
>He already dreaded the wedding night.<br>But all hope he had had in Sherlock Holmes was gone. All his love was living in his dying heart. From then on he'd continue to admire Sherlock, love him, adore him, and take care of him. But an episode like the one last night would never happen again._

**Sherlock had closed the door and sat in his room, topless and smoking his pipe in once again contemplative silence, blowing rings into the air. He liked to think he was being a martyr, distancing himself from Watson for Mary's sake.**

**But thinking that would have been bullshit.**

**In reality he was probably a bit selfish, but did it not make sense? Watson was going to be engaged and he could not stop it. If he'd stayed with the man, it would have served to further complicate things already. They worked as brilliant team. He didn't want to lose that aspect too.**

They'd already lost everything else.


End file.
